ESPN Kenny Mayne Blog

Every year, about three minutes after two minutes or so worth of Kentucky Derby, the false contention is uttered by a legion of media members once more that if so and so (Street Sense, this time) can prevail in the Preakness and then in the Belmont, horse racing just might be saved.

If that's what it takes it's preferential, at least, to slot machines or bingo or whatever it is the tracks are being granted lately to raise revenue. But as it turns out, there was no Triple Crown winner again at the conclusion of Saturday's stirring Belmont Stakes, but again Belmont and other race tracks managed to re-open for business.

The owners and trainers of Street Sense took criticism because they chose not to enter their animal in the mile and a half Belmont. In that view they weren't doing enough to save the game either. Just as it's easy to spend other people's money, it's easy also to make deployment decisions for another. But it's also wrong. Street Sense is their property. The horse came out sound from the grueling run against Curlin in the Preakness, so the opinion was that a healthy horse more or less compelled them to enter against Curlin in the Belmont for the rubber match (Keep in mind, had Street Sense entered the Belmont, Todd Pletcher would not have entered Rags to Riches and we would have missed out on that -- unless you believe all three of them would have run to the wire together).

Street Sense is being pointed for something even greater than a mile and a half at Belmont, in a series that could not yield a Triple Crown. It's called the Breeders' Cup Classic, the championship event in horse racing (if only that could be fully understood).

It was determined by those who are actually in charge of making the call that the mile and half at Belmont wasn't the best medicine for Street Sense to get race ready for the fall. Some rest and key placements in the summer will serve as that instead.

What did happen at Belmont on Saturday was racing's best cure, if in fact it is in need of one.

What I saw was a great mix of people coming out to see what turned out to be as big a race as any well-intentioned savior of the game could write up.

The last superstar standing from the first two legs of the Triple Crown Series squared off in the final quarter mile with a new face, a girl at that.

Rags to Riches had run out of other girls to beat, so Todd Pletcher put her in a place that seemed over her head.

Instead, she won by a head in the most thrilling (and maybe more thrilling given the battle of the genders appeal) finish since Victory Gallop stopped Real Quiet's Triple Crown bid by a nose.

So in total, what we got without a Triple Crown winner again, was the birth of a star in the Derby and then back-to-back drives to the wire in both the Preakness and the Belmont. Two horses, all out to the finish, separated by inches.

That's what racing needs to be saved, if indeed it needs to be saved.

Racing needs racing.

And attention to what we just witnessed.

Nothing has changed to disuade me from taking Tiago to win the Belmont Stakes. Then again I spent my day watching my kindergarten daughter, Annie, perform in a year-end musical. Annie and Jade absolutely killed in their performance of whatever that song is she's been singing around the house for two months.

Riley, the other daughter, likes Curlin. We are head to head. Whoever's horse beats the other gets to dump a bucket of water over the other's head.

This is the kind of racing information you cannot find in Lauren Stich's Pedigree Analysis in the Daily Racing Form. One thing Lauren wrote that I paid close attention to is that Tiago is bred to run all day. They won't make him run all day on Saturday, just a mile and a half. To some horses, however, that will feel like they've been assigned the job of plowing a wheat farm for 12 hours in the sun. By the way, farming is the subject of a key ESPN story that will be aired somewhere during the five hours of live coverage before we give way to ABC and the Belmont Stakes.

Brent Musburger is the host of the show. He'll be doing the Bob Costas role, except that Brent will say "You're looking live" at the top of the show whereas Costas says "this is Today on NBC," as far as I know.

This is now a semi-live, play-by-play blog.

Brent is sitting in a chair not 30 feet from me. We are in our production meeting for the ABC show. If I told him I used to watch him as a kid that would make him feel old so I'll just head nod him.

I just head nodded Brent.

Jack Graham, who has red hair, is the producer. He's talking about something. What, I have no idea. Probably the show on ABC.

I don't even have a format for the show. I'm just sitting here pretending I am paying attention.

The Hammer, Hank Goldberg, is sitting next to me as he will be in the paddock for the Belmont show. All we have to do is talk about gambling. That's a real hard job.

Tiago. That's what I'll say.

Hank will pick Curlin. He just told me. There goes the suspense of our section on the ABC show.

Jack just said my name so I looked up and pretended I was paying attention. He just said, "Kenny, Hank." Now I think he means business. There must be some big role he has in mind for us. "Do you have a guest handicapper you want to use?" he asked. We named some names. Hank said "Parcells." Parcells hates my football stories so I don't know if he'd like my horse racing stories either, particularly my story about how Belmont is a farm when it isn't. Bill hasn't exactly bought into the vision. But he is a big name and has a nickname and he's part of our tackle football coverage again, so yeah, that would be great.

My great toe and ankle hurt like hell.

My ankle is ruined for life from tackle football but last week I hurt my great toe in addition in company softball.

I was trying to get ready for the big Legends-Celebrity softball game in San Francisco in July. Instead I misjudged a fly ball, allowing three runs and injured my great toe.

I have a large bag of ice on my toe and ankle.

Jeannine Edwards just said some interesting thing. I don't know what it was. She just agreed with something Jack said. I think she's trying to be compliant with the boss even though Jack has no authority to grant pay raises.

I've heard nothing in this meeting to disuade me from choosing Tiago.

Brent is wearing a striped shirt.

My hotel room in Garden City has a view of New York City. They made a mistake and put me in a good room.

I look down on Jerry Bailey's room.

I'm going to remind him of that. But not right now. This meeting means too much.

My daughters got goldfish today for some reason.

ABC will show epsiode two of "Fast Cars and Superstars" on Sunday before the NBA game. We had more viewers than a repeat of "My Name Is Earl" but fewer viewers than the dancing show on Fox. We killed "Nova" on PBS. I like "Nova" so I feel bad about that. I don't feel as bad as my ankle does.

I still like Tiago.

Curlin is great but he's been doing too much in a short amount of time. He's got to slow down at some point and I'll make that prediction on the day he's going to be even money.

Jeannine is talking about something again. Somebody else just said something about using a zoom in on a camera shot in the paddock. I think we should all leave and go to our hotel rooms and study the other races.

We already know enough about this Belmont.

I've heard nothing that will have me doing anything else but backing Tiago.

Jack Graham sure runs a good meeting. He's making big decisions over there in the corner.

Other people are talking about something.

I want to leave now but the ice feels too good and people are still talking about stuff.

Hank looks bored.

Jeannine is talking about something again I wish she would shut up.

Now Haley is saying something.

Somebody just spelled the paddock judge's last name. Why?

What's wrong with these people?

I like Tiago. We've been over that.

Didn't need a meeting for that, did we?

UPDATE: Kenny Mayne is still getting over Tiago's defeat. He will work extra hard on Sunday.

Editor's note: The filly, Rags to Riches, was a last minute entrant for Saturday's Belmont Stakes. Kenny Mayne spent some time at the barns with the animals.

Curlin: There's a chick in the race now.

Hard Spun: Shut. Up.

Tiago: No way.

Curlin: Way.

Imawildandcrazyguy: I'd breed with her.

Tiago: Dude. Get your mind out of the gutter. We have a race to run.

Curlin: And it's a flippin' mile and a half. Who runs a mile and a half except those Euros?

Hard Spun: That's why they always kick our butt in the John Deere Breeders' Cup Turf race.

Curlin: Whatever. I'm a dirt horse.

Imawildandcrazyguy: Where's the girl?

Curlin: Over in Pletcher's barn.

Hard Spun: Who isn't? He has about 300 head. Who does he think he is, Joseph Cartwright from Bonanza?

Tiago: You know what Joe Cartwright and Todd Pletcher have in common? They've never won a Triple Crown Series race.

Curlin: It's starting to get to him. You can see it in his face.

Hard Spun: He's gotta be pretty desperate to be running a chick in the Belmont. I think there've been only two girl winners in 138 runnings.

Tiago: Yeah one of them was named Ruthless.

Curlin: Aren't they all?

(Horse laughs.)

Tiago: And the other was called Tanya. I knew a Tanya out in California. Spicy.

Slew's Tizzy: What's going on? What are you guys talking about?

C P West: Yeah. What's up, fellas? We were checking out the quarantine barn.

Hard Spun: Don't be bringing back girl germs.

(More horse laughs.)

Slew's Tizzy: What are you talking about?

Curlin: You're running a mile and a half with a girl on Saturday. Rags to Riches, they call her. Those men who sit way up above the track with binoculars.

Tiago: And down the stretch they come.

Hard Spun: Please rise for our national anthem.

C P West: Please hold all tickets. There's a stewards inquiry into the running of the 8th race.

Slew's Tizzy: Tomorrow is hat day. Hats will be distributed to the first 10,000 fans.

Tiago: What are fans?

Curlin: Those are people who come to the Belmont Stakes.

Hard Spun: Where are they the day after?

Tiago: I don't know. That's the crazy thing. Handle keeps going up but on-track attendance is pretty dreadful except for the short summer meets and big event days.

Slew's Tizzy: We need something to capture the imagination of the novice race fans.

C P West: If it wasn't for Curlin, maybe we'd have a Triple Crown.

Curlin: That's unfair.

Slew's Tizzy: No. The Triple Crown will happen when it happens. We need something to draw the attention of those who wouldn't typically take in a race.

Imawildandcrazyguy: Call me a wild and crazy guy, but doesn't a girl entering the Belmont at the last minute qualify?

As they crossed the line I celebrated with my nephew Kyle. He's just back from Iraq, adjusting to civilian life. No better way to do that in my estimation than hit the winner of the 132nd Preakness Stakes. I'd given him Curlin. The two of us were all smiles.

The other folks around us looked grim.

They were all ESPN people, saddened by Street Sense's loss. There goes the promotional campaign for the Belmont on ABC.

But that's only if you were concerned about a Triple Crown.

Kyle and I were kind of hung up on temporal things, like walking back to the old guy at the window (who mispunched one ticket, but that's OK).

But I don't think Kyle and I are greedy bastards.

I'm all for a horse winning a Triple Crown. But I'm only for that if he's good enough to win the damn thing.

I ran into one of our producers in the tv compound after it was done. She looked like she'd lost a puppy.

Me: What's wrong?

Producer: Didn't you see the race? He lost.

Me: The heck he did. I had the four horse.

Producer: It's not all about gambling.

Me: No. No it isn't. It's about competition. The better horse won.

At that she went to look for her puppy. I went to look for a window.

But I didn't feel remorse in the least.

Street Sense ran by Curlin at the top of the stretch like the game was over. And then the race really started. Curlin was down by a length and a half, the Kentucky Derby winner was pulling away from him.

Curlin and jockey Robby Albarado could have quit, they could have even started rooting for a Triple Crown.

But instead they raced.

That's the point of this thing, race by race. Triple Crown be damned.

There's a Belmont coming still.

Way back in 1937, when horse racing was a big deal, they ran a race at Pimlico called The Pimlico Special for the first time.

War Admiral was your winner.

The next year, in the same race, Seabiscuit beat War Admiral. Pretty much everyone in the country with a transistor radio was listening.

In 1942, another of the game's most famous, Whirlaway, won the Special in a walkover. You look at the old charts and you see that the race went off at 4:07 p.m. Eastern War Time.

It must have been a nice break for the citizens. The war was going on, but they could stop for two minutes or so and listen to a description of one of the all-time greats running around one of the nation's great tracks.

Cigar won the Pimlico Special. It was along the way to his record-tying 16 consecutive wins.

But now, like the track that staged the event, the Pimlico Special is dead.

They cancelled the Pimlico Special this year.

Sure, Pimlico will stage the 132nd running of the Preakness (133rd, if you count the fact one year they had two Preakness runnings). But still, it is dead.

We're only talking about the facility here.

To prove my point, I will walk the five flights of stairs to get to my television position on the roof today. There is a greater likelihood that Mint Slewlep will win the Preakness than there is that the press elevator can get to the top one more time.

I'm hoping you're still reading, because it is here where I point out the deadness is physical, not spiritual. The people here are great. And that goes for the whole community surrounding Pimlico.

Baltimore invested a ton of money about 20 years ago and revitalized the downtown area. The Baltimore Inner Harbor and all its commerce attract customers and money, even when it's not Preakness week.

But the money didn't spread north much.

That's where Pimlico is, about 10 miles north of the city. The people in the neighborhood get a second Christmas on the third Saturday of every May. They enjoy the economic theory of a rising tide lifting all boats. They sell parking spots. They push beverage coolers in shopping carts for tips. They get theirs.

For one day.

Then the place reverts to its sad old self.

A beat-up building in an area north of the money, with very few interested in making the trip to see the animals run.

Year after year, the Pimlico owners and racing lobbyists have begged the Maryland Legislature for the right to house slot machines inside the track. The examples of success in this endeavor are plentiful. Sunland did it. Delaware did it. The money lost by old ladies in sweaters on slots would be used to raise the capital to make Pimlico shiny like the coat of a horse. The race purses would increase, attracting better horses, the fans would come, the boats would rise.

There are some who protested the slot machine bills as an evil that would prey upon the poor. If they're taking that stand on slots, they had better do so also on state lotteries, the single worst betting option I've heard of.

The sad part for anyone who actually loves horse racing is the very fact that slots are needed to help save a race track.

In my day, the race track was enough to attract me to the race track.

But I was lucky. My track had Mt. Rainier in the distance. Longacres even had its own parking, which should have been free in the first place. (For that matter, why do tracks charge general admission? Don't they want customers to come in?)

My track was sold to and then destroyed by the Boeing company.

A moment of silence, please, for Longacres.

Another moment of silence, please, for the Pimlico Special. The money saved by not running that race has at least been re-distributed to the general purse fund at Pimlico, but still ...

And a moment of silence for the paint chips on the floor of the elevator I won't take today.

I asked Randy Moss (horse racing analyst, you know him) what the draw meant to this year's running of the Preakness. He told me it meant nothing. This is a guy who loves and respects racing and he thinks the one hour program we did for ESPN2 meant nothing. I think what it meant is that we got to sell another Tom Emanski defensive drills video spot.

It's endorsed by Fred McGriff.

Not only did Randy let me down but his son John (just graduated from Oklahoma in journalism) didn't listen these past several years to THE most important part of the draw show that Randy finds unimportant. Every year I've done the show with Randy from the ESPN Zone in Baltimore, we've done our best to refute the notion that the difference between the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness is "the tighter turns at Pimlico." It's been written about and spoken of so many times, it is taken as fact. To me, it's the same as when people say the Heat ARE good (or bad depending on the record) when in fact the Heat IS good (or bad). William Safire has spoken. A team with a singular sounding name (Heat, Magic, Sting, Fire, Puppy) IS an IS. A team with a plural sounding name (Sonics, Seahawks, Mariners) needs an ARE.

If 30 people are in a room two of them will likely have the same birth month and date. But also, if 30 people are in a room and 29 of them say two plus two equals five, the guy who says two plus two is four is still right.

John Moss told me on the phone that "with the tighter turns at Pimlico ..." I don't know what else he said because the cell phone stopped working. He may think I hung up on him and I should have. His sire is Randy Moss, who for years has tried to instruct the people that the only difference between the Derby and the Preakness (he used Google Earth to show the two tracks are almost identical in circumference) is that the Preakness is 1/16th of a mile shorter in race length.

They are not tighter turns.

The difference between the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness is that one is held in Kentucky and the other one is held in Preakness.

And Churchill Downs has put millions into upgrading its look while Pimlico needs a fresh coat of paint. Desperately.

But the biggest difference is the unknown. Which horse will maintain his form from the Derby? Which one will give up on the fight for having dealt with a mile and a quarter?

Or, in the case of those going with Curlin, can a horse regain the form he seemed to have lost (for a rough trip) before the Derby? To get that answer is worth 4-1, in voting, as we do at these events.

And now, for something entirely different:

Small Open Letter to the Queen of England:

Dear Queen of England,

We hope your pictures turned out well from Churchill and that you didn't have to make the walk of shame and go back to the ATM in the middle of the card. I gave you bum advice telling you to spend the Crown's money on Great Hunter. But as they say in racing, "he didn't like the track." I hope you did. See you at Royal Ascot in June. That comes right before the Major League All-Star game in San Francisco. Are you going?

Let's talk,

Kenny

Dear Queen of England,

It's OK that you didn't respond to my first Open Letter. I realize you had a lot of stuff to do. It must be a royal pain being Queen sometimes, but you handle it so well.

I thought you looked distinguished in your green outfit and matching green and pink hat. Were you representing, or what?

I tried to get to Michael Jordan for some sound. He wore a hat, too. Now, in his case, I hadn't written him an Open Letter, so it's no wonder I couldn't find him when I looked around for him in the crowd. There were roughly 174,029 people at the track. I simply didn't see him.

You, your majesty, I saw. At one point we were no more than 10 feet apart. It would have been a good time. I was willing to go into Mr. Sexton's corner office and grab you a pop. Do you call it pop or cola or soda? I'm from the Seattle area and we call it pop. Do you remember those old pop machines at laundromats that had the little 6-ounce cup drop down the slot? Then the pop would just pour from a little tap. That was a good deal for 25 cents, in my book.

I would have asked you questions other than these. It would have depended on how much time we had in total. The Governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky came by. His section was capped at three minutes by my producers so I went right at it and asked him if he's a member of the communist party. It was just a joke and he will laugh for many days, I'm sure.

When we were standing together, overlooking the paddock before the Derby, were you looking at the horses to make your final gaming decision, or were you just chilling?

Everybody was terribly excited that you came. It was a way bigger deal than when both Lachey brothers came. This time, it was just Nick. His more famous brother, Drew, who won "Dancing With the Stars," did not attend this year. I'm certain he hammered the race at an OTB or on his Palm Pilot. Some of your subjects made up "Dancing With the Stars" and then they brought it over here. Same deal for a lot of TV shows, when you come to think of it. You must have some clever subjects and you must be so proud of their television ideas. I was on "Dancing With The Stars" but I was kicked off on the first night.

Tell me the truth: Did you vote for me or Master P?

One more vote and I might have made it to the second round. Don't you feel terrible for my dancer Andrea Hale? She's tall, has good manners and deserved better.

I think it's time to admit something. I stole my dancing shoes after they threw me off. In fact, I wore them today. They are shiny and pretty good on my ankle, which is injured for life from tackle football. By football I mean football, not soccer (your sport).

Have you ever heard of Dr. James Andrews of Birmingham, Alabama? He looked at my ankle and said "Lordy, lordy."

I'm not here to try to bum you out. You looked like you had such a great day.

I really hope that's true as we are still loyal to you in a big way even though we didn't want to be your subjects full time back when George Washington was causing your predecessors all that trouble. Sorry for that. But at the end of the day, it's night. I hate it when people keep saying "at the end of the day," don't you?

So, even though we didn't talk, my friend Scott Van Pelt would give you big ups, as he puts it. That means we like you.

I hope you played Street Sense and tore it up at the windows.

I wonder what would have happened had you won a race that paid more than 300-1 odds and exceeded $600 in total payout. In those cases, in America, the player has to pay taxes. That's ridiculous. I mean, what if you spent $72 to win that $601? Excessive taxation, if you ask me.

Wait a minute. That's what separated us in the first place. Let's not talk about it all these years later.

We're friends and allies and you're the Queen. But you know that.

As I stood above the paddock with you I looked over and I thought to myself, "that's what royalty looks like."

You.

Have a safe flight home. I hope they give you first class. It would be a joke if you're sitting in 54G. I know some people at United.

Hope to see you at Royal Ascot. But if not, no matter what, I say brilliant, Your Majesty, just brilliant.

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- I have every faith that the trainers and jockeys involved in the 133rd Kentucky Derby will disregard the special promotion that Yum! Brands has devised. I'm as certain of this as I am Affirmed won the last Triple Crown. I know how much these trainers and jockeys care for the game, for their horses.

It's an honor to enter the starting gate for the Kentucky Derby, a greater honor to win the Kentucky Derby. It matters not how much one wins by. It's the winning alone that matters.

Yum! Brands didn't understand this point when it rolled out a bonus program for the entrants in this year's Derby. Should the winner of the Derby end up with a margin of victory that exceeds that of Barbaro last year, 6½ lengths, the winning owner will receive a $1 million bonus.

What does the horse get? The beating of his life, likely.

(Barbaro's jockey, Edgar Prado, did not whip the colt in the stretch.)

In essence, Yum! Brands is asking Corey Nakatani to beat the living hell out of Great Hunter in the final 200 yards should Great Hunter be leading by five when Corey checks over his shoulder.

In olden times, a jockey leading by five in the final 200 yards would look over his shoulder and coast to victory. It is, after all, the first leg of the Triple Crown. There's this thing called the Preakness coming in two weeks and the Belmont three weeks after that.

The typically draining training and prep race schedule for the horses who enter the Kentucky Derby is so severe already that each year most horses who make the Derby bail out when it comes time to race the Preakness two weeks later. The owners and trainers of those horses realize it's just not worth it to punish their horse with another difficult race two weeks after getting the readiness needed to make it a mile and a quarter at Churchill. That is to say, they care for their horses.

Not Yum! Brands. Yum! Brands is encouraging the riders to go for the money, not understanding, that to a man (and the occasional woman rider) the glory of winning a Kentucky Derby is reward enough. Getting into the Kentucky Derby at all is a lifetime achievement enough for most.

I am as certain as "My Old Kentucky Home" will be sung in advance at Saturday's race that not a single trainer or jockey (and I trust each and every owner too) won't consider in the least the possibility that there's an extra million sitting at the finish line should they be able to vanquish Barbaro's great run. His margin of victory was the largest in 60 years when he won last year's race.

Yum! Brands actually tried to play this as a tribute to Barbaro.

It is an insult to Barbaro and to every horse who has ever run in this great American race.

The Queen of England is coming to the event. I'm just guessing, but I don't see her sanctioning a $1 million bonus to the owner of the horse whose rider beats the living hell out of the Ascot Gold Cup.

Maybe I'm wrong and Curlin is that good and he wins in a breeze by 10 lengths. And that will be great. He'll be 4-4 lifetime and have plenty of racing life left for not having been asked to do too much in the Kentucky Derby. But Yum! Brands apparently doesn't get it. The company maintains it is honoring Barbaro. Instead, it is prostituting Barbaro and mocking the spirit of the race.

If Yum! Brands wants to do the right thing, take the million (or is it just $75,000 -- as in the likely insurance premium) and spread it out to the grooms and hotwalkers and anyone else who doesn't share in the riches so often. Or maybe take the million and give it to the fund that supports injured jockeys. Or maybe send some of the money over to the Alex's Lemonade stand. I love that girl. She's gone but her memory is so strong. And so is that of Barbaro. But now somebody's misguided reward system threatens to tarnish not enhance Barbaro's memory.

It's not too late for Yum! Brands. The company can still pull it back. Issue a statement. Explain that the idea was intended to honor Barbaro but upon reflection there are probably better ways to do so.

But even if Yum! Brands fails to pull back the million-dollar bonus program, I think the horses will be OK in this regard.

Some horse just might surpass Barbaro when it comes to margin of victory on Saturday. But it will happen because the horse was that good, the race that easy. If it happens, it will happen in spite of Yum! Brands.

I just have too much faith in the goodness of people to believe any different.

Editor's note: A spokesperson from Yum! Brands told Kenny Mayne that the sole purpose and intent of this promotion was to honor the spirit and legacy of Barbaro.

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- Dear Queen of England,

Welcome to the United States of America.

I was wondering if on Saturday during the preliminary races before the Kentucky Derby you might stop by our set and work with me. There's no way it'll take longer than five minutes, I promise.

Let me warn you: Derby Day is nuts. The betting lines are longer than a queue to tour Big Ben, so make sure to do your homework the night before. I'm guessing you have somebody to run your betting anyway, or maybe you're going to use your phone account with Ladbroke's. Anyway, just a word to the wise. I wouldn't want you to come over and do the interview only to end up having to wait in some long line and potentially miss the chance to hammer a horse you really like.

This story probably didn't make it across the pond, but in first grade I was a King. Several times. Mrs. Johnson used to hold these contests, both in spelling and math. Whoever won the elimination-style competition got to wear a paper crown on their head the rest of the day. I usually cleaned up when it came to the words but Mike Nelson was a warrior in the math department. The kid was doing long division by second grade, go figure.

Anyway, a few years ago (they all roll together, just like at Royal Ascot) the owner of the New York Yankees, George Steinbrenner, owned an animal named Bellamy Road. That colt was supposed to win by daylight but Mr. Steinbrenner (we call him "The Boss," which over here is Royalty, more or less) was nervous about jinxing his horse so he had declined all interviews. The girl who comes every year to help out and make coffee (and I mean good coffee, like the kind Sam Jackson was drinking in the kitchen in Pulp Fiction, not freeze dried coffee) asked me if I could get The Boss to sign something for her dad. I told her I don't even think I'm getting The Boss to do an interview so I hardly expect he'll sign anything for your old man. I didn't really say "old man" but it sure reads well right here, no? So what happened is the coffee girl went and got the autograph herself. Then she came back and bragged about how The Boss had signed a bunch of stuff and how nice he was. I told her to march her ass back inside the fancy-people area (same place you'll be, Your Majesty) and bring the man out.

Not five minutes later, here comes The Boss. He was very nice to me but he didn't sign anything.

I'm not saying I'm going to send the coffee girl to get you. Her old man didn't even ask for your autograph.

What if, just to have half a plan, we commit that we're doing the interview in the 4-5 p.m. block. As much as I love Rece Davis, I don't really want him to score the interview. If I end up doing the interview, I'll be able to say that in the span of one month I interviewed Will Ferrell and the Queen of England -- that's you.

You're the Queen of England. That must be a lot of work.

We are so proud to have you at our Kentucky Derby. Everyone is talking about it. I'm even writing about it. It's a lot easier to just talk about it. My fingers hurt from typing.

I've interviewed the governor of Kentucky for three years running now. We would dump him in a minute if you agree to come on board. We can float you the questions in advance if you want and we won't do any "word association." That is so lame.

Remember that movie my daughters like in which the girl becomes a princess? She says to the queen at one point, "Shut----Up." She doesn't mean that she wants the queen to stop talking. She is using slang for "you have got to be kidding." I wouldn't do that because people would think I am being rude. I am anything but that. I'm Mr. Manners guy, especially when it comes to royalty.

Again, this is the greatest thing since Petra came to the Derby a few years ago. The outfit.

If you want any tips, I'm Mr. Tip guy.

I'm coming to Royal Ascot this summer. It's going to be enjoyable, I'm certain.

If we don't catch up on Saturday, then we can make half a plan for an audience at Royal Ascot instead.

I'm not kidding when I say that if I get to interview you either on Saturday or in June at Royal Ascot my friends will say, "Shut----Up!" I'm not saying that to you, not a chance. I'm saying things like "Talk for as long as it pleases you, Your Majesty."

Again, please don't do the interview with Rece Davis. When I said I love him I meant he's a good guy. He's not in my family or anything. In fact, it's pretty cutthroat at ESPN, but I'm not going to go there right now.

I think we've learned a lot about each other through this Open Letter to the Queen of England. I know I have.

Enjoy your time in the United States. I hope you at least get to meet the President of the United States. Can you believe it? He's the president of all the states, even Alaska and Hawaii and they are terribly far away. Just so you know, Alaska and Hawaii are not located off the coast of California, as many maps indicate. I know that's an old joke but if you like that kind of material, I'm just getting going.

I have to go now. It's like 10: 55 on Wednesday night. That was some draw show today, huh? They put us on ESPN2, which in the past might have been considered a letdown. The thing is, ESPN2 had just about the same reach as ESPN regular, so it doesn't bother me, no sir. Your Majesty I mean.

I think about the only place that doesn't get ESPN2 is North Dakota. But if it's the Mount Rushmore thing with the presidents you want to see you should go to South Dakota. I don't know your schedule. It's funny how your subjects say "schezd-ule," know what I mean? It's probably not as funny to you and I'm not making fun of you or any people from your country or any of the countries that are still sort of your countries. If I'm not mistaken, I think Canada is still one of those. I like Canadian people. Barry Melrose is probably my favorite. He's a huge hockey guy, probably in the same way people would say Prince Harry is a huge cricket guy, if he is.

If you are not available we'd settle for Prince Harry or any other of the princes who are on the trip. We'd take anybody, really. But that's not to say we don't want you. You're definitely our No. 1 choice. Remember, under no circumstance should you do the interview with Rece Davis. I can't stand Rece Davis. He's always stealing my best interview people. So don't fall for that, even with his charming southern accent. I'm from Seattle, which is almost Canada. In fact, a long time ago they had this argument over the border out there in the Pacific Northwest. I have forgotten all the details.

No wonder Mike Nelson always got to wear the crown when Mrs. Johnson tested us on history.

You're going to laugh at this, but they have a race called the Crown Royal race, I think. That's alcohol and I don't drink except a bottle of wine with my wife, but hardly ever. It doesn't do much for me. They say a glass of wine is good for you. Maybe I should have one glass of wine at night, but that's it, that's the limit.

Hope to see you on Saturday. If not, can you ask the Royal Exchequer of something to stop by? I don't know how to spell Exchequer very well, but I gave it a good shot.

My attempt is sort of like how my daughter Annie writes in her kindergarten journal for Ms. Herlihy's class. It's a great idea, to just write. The spelling and structure will sort itself out eventually, don't you think?

If my daughter had written this it would have been way shorter, but they are paying me $2 per word. Can you believe that? What a bunch of idiots. No way are the people who pay me that much for this nonsense getting anywhere near the TV set when you swing by. One more thing, can you not bring a lot of people when you come? We're trying to limit the number of people hanging out around the set, so Hank Goldberg can concentrate on his trifecta plays.

But back to my daughter. She is a princess as is her sister, Riley, and their mom, Laura. They are my princesses and queen, though totally unofficially. There is no way we're saying they are as big a deal as you, but they are everything to me. So when you put it that way, they are the biggest deal to me, no offense, Your Majesty.

Here's how Annie's letter to you might have read. Again, remember, she often does her writing in a hurry because "Hannah Montana" might be on the TV set.

Here's her letter (she didn't really write this. I'm just saying)

Deer The Quene Englind,

Can yuo plez pleez com to my dadddys t.v. set to tak wiht him abut horsses? he pikct Ivnvasore at tha breeding cup last time mommy knoes he bet on aminals. my dad mist myie t bll ball gam . pleeze hav him com home.

love, annie

I'm not trying to use my child as a prop. I just thought you'd sort of think that's cool. I know your family is the biggest deal in the world to you. They are your royalty.

Bring all of them if you want.

But not for Rece Davis. I already warned you about him.

And the long lines.

And one last thing. Make sure they give you a special fourth-floor sticker. The security guys are tough about that stuff. You probably won't even have a problem. I'm just saying.

With great admiration and respect for the bond between our great and good nations and hoping you can stop by,

Ken Mayne/ TV set reporter/ ESPN, Worldwide Leader (but not as important as being a queen)

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- It's 6:15 a.m. I am at Starbucks. For the third time in the last 500 trips there (excluding Seattle trips where they ought to know the rules), the guy at the counter has priced my triple Americano correctly. He gets a tip. Those who price incorrectly don't. (More on this coming in an upcoming book. No. Really.)

I'm enjoying my beverage and listening to Kirk Franklin because he's inspirational at 6:15 a.m. (and at other hours).

And there they are: The same crew who put together Giacomo's winning run two years ago here at 50-1. Jerry Moss, the M in the old A&M Records and John Shirreffs, the trainer for the Rock 'N Roll Hall of Famer. This time they are running Tiago, the winner of the Santa Anita Derby and the half-brother of Giacomo.

We talk about the weather and about other stuff. I say, "I'll see you later."

About 10 minutes later, I see them. They are trackside; Tiago will gallop shortly.

Shirreffs tells me he is more confident about Tiago than he was with Giacomo. It's at that point we really get down to business. I just bought a new computer and inside it is something called Windows Vista. That's great because I am the only one in the world, apparently, who is using this product. It is so new that I could not get my e-mail established with Comcast. It is so new I cannot send Word files to my book editor. I mean, I can send them, but he can't read them. That's going to hurt the project, I'm guessing, new as I am to the world of publishing.

But Shirreffs has a solution. He told me, "You need to split your system so half of it is running on Vista and the other half is on XP." After he says this I look at clouds. They are in very interesting shapes. One of them looks like Jerry Moss.

Jerry Moss admits he didn't really discover the Police. He's known for that, you know. The guy who really discovered the Police was Derek Green, the acquisition guy in England for A&M. It was 1978. Drummer Stewart Copeland's brother Miles was the band's manager. He had funded the first album. On it was a little song called "Roxanne." You've heard it if you've seen the movie 48 Hours. You may see it if you go to the Police reunion show in your town. Jerry Moss heard it at CBGB (since closed) in New York City. "It was one of those moments," he told me. I nodded; I was with him a lot more on this than I was with his trainer when he was talking about splitting my computer in half. I'm thinking one of those moments came just last week. My daughter Riley (the only girl in her league) fielded a grounder and threw the seven-year-old out at first. A clean 4-3 groundout.

In last night's game, I was told Riley sat down while playing second base. She stared at clouds without being prompted by a horse trainer who loves to split computers in half. She played with dandelions, if that's how you spell that word. I'm sure as hell not looking it up. This is only a blog. It's not like I'm playing above the fold in the New York Times here. In fact, who reads this other than my editor?

Hearing Moss tell me of that moment was a cool way to look into the past even as he told me, "It was like looking into the future." He heard "Roxanne" at one of the most famous clubs in America and pulled the trigger on promoting one of the world's greatest bands.

That's right in there with discovering a Kentucky Derby winner.

As much as I like Moss and Shirreffs, I'd already discovered mine, in a barn not far from theirs. But my pick is going to end up with a terrible post position. The TV show to prove this is on the air in three hours, 16 minutes, as I write.

Look for Great Hunter to do something big on Saturday from either Post 20 or Post 1. I hope Doug O'Neill picks the one. This horse can save ground the entire way around the track, pick them off one by one as they sweep through the far turn. That's how I'm drawing it up. Drawing it up without splitting my computer in half. I may listen to "Roxanne." My researcher, Rolly Hoyt, has an iPod. That's modern. Not modern like Vista, otherwise how could anyone listen?

Great Hunter sounds like the future to me. But if I'm wrong, who cares? This Kentucky Derby thing is no picnic. ONE of 34,000 fools born in the United States in 2004 will win on Saturday. That's like the odds against finding the right price for coffee, or a band the stature of the Police.

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- It's 4 p.m. on Tuesday and I'd just pulled into the ESPN headquarters motel parking lot. It was a warm spring afternoon here. I wrote that last sentence to add to the setting.

As I got out of my rental unit, I noticed a man exiting his car nearby. He was looking my way. His wife said "Go ahead, do it." She said this in an encouraging way, as though the man was a bit nervous about approaching me.

I didn't really know what to expect. I figured he wanted to tell me I'd done a heck of a job on "Dancing With The Stars" and that he'd voted for me 10 times. That's usually what people say to me unless they mistake me for Trey Wingo or Rich Eisen, in which case they say, "You did a heck of a job on 'Dancing With The Stars.' I voted for you ten times."

Turns out the man just wanted money.

I was wary at first because just two weeks ago in New York City I believe I was bamboozled on one of those deals where young kids walk around with a cardboard box full of candy bars under the guise it's to raise money for their Little League team. First of all, I don't know any Little Leagues with 23-year-old men. But I was in a charitable mood. I gave the guy a $20 and wished him well with the big game that week. That was the first guy. The second guy approached soon after, having learned their was a sucker in Central Park handing out $20 dollar bills. The second guy was eating one of the candy bars. He didn't ask so much as demand some money for the cause, whatever his cause was. I told him I'd already given the league plenty of support and needed to get back with my daughters. That didn't do it for him. He told me, "I'm on a different team!" I repeated that I'd already helped the league in a big way and that was going to be it for me. He walked off, took another bite of a candy bar and moved toward the next potential sale.

I hope at least the first guy plays Little League. I'm willing to be swindled once in a while in order that the legitimate requests get the help that's needed.

This ran through my mind as the guy approached in the parking lot of the ESPN headquarters motel. Well, not all of this. If that were the case, it would have been a long silence from the time he said, "I'm sorry to bother you" to the point in which I reacted to his opening remark.

Anyway, the general theme of being somewhat wary of these kind of approaches did run through my mind. I don't think it ever ran through my father's mind. I think it's from him I got my general principal of trying to help those who need it. If my dad saw a guy asking for money at a stoplight, he'd just as likely give the man a ride to his destination as give him some money. Trouble is, sometimes the stoplight is the destination.

This time the intended destination was Columbia, S.C. I think Sterling Sharpe is from that area. Probably Shannon Sharpe, too.

As sincerely as a man can, this man told me he was broke, needed gas and has a family. The wife and daughter looked on.

I thought of my dad. He would have given the man a ride to South Carolina.

So I'm down $50 now. Haven't seen a betting window.

Or maybe I'm UP $50. This guy was way more sincere than the candy bar salesman.

He promised me this: "I'm going to pay it forward."

And then, when I couldn't find a $20, and I handed him a $50, he told me "the hair on my arms is standing up."

That's good enough for me on a Tuesday in the parking lot of a Louisville motel. I'm thinking I'll run into a lot of things less believable as the week goes on.